Part 15 (1/2)
”Almost certainly,” Mavra told him. ”Umm . . . just out of curiosity, is thereany account in any of the legends of any of the races here of a surviving member of the First Race? Of somebody who could work the big computer?”
”Odd you should ask. Yes. The name is part of so many similar legends and sagas here that it is believed that he must have once been real, although whether of the First Race is not known. Come to think of it, he is always said to be a Glathrielian! Indeed, there are so many stories and legends about him that it is not totally certain if he is a real character, a composite, or a part of our extensive mythol-ogy. That is hotly debated. But there are ancient battle sites and legends in many hexes, including some that are very alien to Glathriel and very far from it, that have their own stories.”
”Uh huh. And his name?”
”It varies, but there is one that is most common. It is, and pardon the translator limitations, urn, let's see-yes, that's it. Brazil. Nathan Brazil.”
Nathan Brazil.Mavra remembered him now. She re-membered alot about Nathan Brazil.
”Is there any consistency to what he looked like?”
”I'm afraid not, and any records of him that might have contained such information are apparently lost.
Besides, what sort of consistency might you expect from all those races, most of whom could not tell one of you from the other?”
”Point taken. Any other specific names and people in those legends?”
”Many. I am not too proficient in such things myself; the Kwynn were apparently not involved in that, and our sagas are different.”
”No Glathrielian woman hero?”
”I do not recall one, although there may be. Why?”
”Just wondering.” Mavra in fact felt some vague disap-pointment at the news that she wasn't even a footnote. Somehow it was a little insulting, all things considered.
Still, what was irritating to her ego might actually be an a.s.set. It would be a lot harder to move around here if one were a world-cla.s.s legend who could open the Well. Others would get ideas.
Still, she vowed thatthis time they would not forget her!
”I believe,” said the amba.s.sador calmly, ”that it is time to process you through. This has been avery busy day.”
”Two favors, if I might,” Mavra responded quickly. ”First, are pictures of the earlier arrivals available so that we may see if there is anyone we know in them? And sec-ond, may I use your translating device to speak to the oth-ers here briefly? We have no practical common tongue, I'm afraid.”
Lori, astounded at the modern bearing and sophistication in Mavra's conversation, couldn't suppress a smile. In the tongue of the People she said, ”I know you cannot explain this in the tongue.”
Unexpectedly, the translator issued only an echo of ex-actly what she had spoken, untranslated, although it clearly caught the conversation. Even the amba.s.sador was sur-prised. ”I've never seen one of these do that before,” he commented worriedly.
Mavra, too, was surprised and responded, ”It knows not the magic of the People.”
Again, the words were echoed unchanged.
Mavra gestured toward the amba.s.sador. ”Remember,” she told Lori. ”It might be very good to have a tongue that cannot be known here.” Lori nodded, thinking much the same thing.
The amba.s.sador sighed. ”Well, stop doing that! It's an-noying! Let's see . . . What was it you wanted?
Oh, yes. Pictures of the arrivals. Of course, they do not look like thisnow .”
He punched some b.u.t.tons on the console, and a wall screen showed three people in the very same conference room they were using. A twist of a dial focused entirely on one and blew it up to full screen. It showed a very hand-some man of clear Latin American ancestry, his hair in the process of going gray, dressed in casual but clearly expen-sive clothes.
”That's all right. Just one at a time, thank you,” Mavra said.
Another twist, and the picture showed a woman, very frail although by no means old, with short hair in a prim bun and thick horn-rimmed gla.s.ses. She was in a wheel-chair.
Another twist, and a third man came into view, dressed more casually than the other but still quite well.
He was a small man, not merely short but thin and wiry, with a large nose and deep-set eyes that seemed almost black and neatly trimmed black hair. He was clean-shaven, but Mavra recog-nized him in an instant and a clear memory of his face, his voice, his personality filled in inside her mind. There was no question, no doubt about it.
Nathan Brazil had returned to the Well World before her.
”You say it has been a fairly long time since they came through,” she noted. ”Has he returned to South Zone at all since arriving?”
”I couldn't say. Those records would not be here, if any records of such a visit were actually kept at all.
He'd be dealing with his hex amba.s.sador in any event.”
”But does it say what they became? The man and the woman in particular?”
”Well, that would be appended here for informational purposesif the race has an emba.s.sy here andif the ambas-sador bothered to register them. Let me check. Ah, yes. Two of them, anyway. The first man went to Zumerbald, the woman to Dillia, and the third-well, there's no record on him, although that means little, as I said.”
I know where he went, she thought, and I know just what he looks like.
The picture changed, and two other men came up on the screen, neither familiar.
”This is the colonel and the captain?”
”Yes, if you prefer.” A close-up of the older man, the colonel, showed a gruff middle-aged man with gray hair and dark complexion but with distinctly Germanic rather than Brazilian features-not uncommon in Brazil, although Mavra would not know that. The close-up of the other showed a much younger and quite handsome man with thick brown hair and a medium complexion which sug-gested he hadn't been in the tropics very long. His uniform was khaki-colored and had nothing on it but a name tag and captain's bars on the shoulders.
”The older man went to Nanzistu,” the amba.s.sador told her, ”and the younger went to-odd, it's not there, but I could have sworn somebody or other said he went to Erdom. Well, they don't keep a permanent amba.s.sador here, and they're a tribal people, so perhaps they didn't do much updating. But that's the lot.”
”He looks familiar somehow,” Lori said, looking at the handsome man. ”I wonder if I met him somewhere. I wouldn't forget a face and body likethat. It's an American uniform.”
”Well, perhaps you will remember; it might be useful,” Mavra replied, then turned to the amba.s.sador.
”And one other favor,” she reminded him.
”Eh? What?”
”Your translator. I would like to speak directly to my companions for a moment. A few minutes, no more.”
”Well, you can do that now, can't you?”
”It would be easier if I didn't have to shout. May I just borrow it for a moment and place it right here?
Where are we going to go?”
”Oh, very well.” He lifted it from around his neck, and she went and took it from him. ”Be careful with it, though!”
She took it over and knelt beside Gus. ”Gus, can you hear me?”
”Um . . . Huh? Yeah. Been listenin' to this bulls.h.i.+t. Still hung over from them drugs, though. I'd swear that guy over there was a giant pink talking dinosaur.”